


Servo Alius

by WhiteRose_Is_My_Life



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, F/M, Healthy Polyamory, Hey What If They All Loved Each Other I Think That Would Be Neat, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyeagles, Porn with Feelings, also they FUCK that too, each pairing will be in the chap titles <3, so many rarepairs my multiship heart is FED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 10:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21195995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteRose_Is_My_Life/pseuds/WhiteRose_Is_My_Life
Summary: Warning - Everyone is post TS in CF so beware of all the spoilers that come with that.It's just a series of smutty one shots for every pairing in BE!





	Servo Alius

**Author's Note:**

> hey whats up everyone! i did get the idea to do a series of fics like this from the bonding activities fic by jified, which is this same idea with blue lions! all the pairings will be in each chapter title, along with either a silly or serious actual name for each chapter. enjoy!
> 
> my twitter is @wrcassnessa if u wanna yell at me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the 1k words of feelings before the actual sex LMAO

Bernadetta requires a gentle touch and constant reassurance- it’s just who she is. Every time Bernie lets any of them touch her, there’s an immense amount of unspoken trust she’s placing in their hands (while they’re placing their hands in her.) 

Hubert isn’t a gentle man. Battle hardened from childhood and raised as a constant protector of Edelgard, he’s been holding a lance and wielding deadly magic since the day he could walk. If there was one thing his bastard father had been good for, it was training him to be as cold and deadly as any good assassin should be. His hands are rough and calloused from handling the crackling magics he’d become so adept in casting. 

But with her, with Bernadetta, his hands are always gentle and tentative, handling her with the same soft reverence that one might handle their most prized possession with, and in a way, she is. She’s not his possession, none of them are, but she is prized in the sense that he values her over anything material. He would easily go so far as to say he valued her over himself. 

Hubert’s hands creep up her neck in the gentlest way he can possibly make them, leaning down to give her a chaste kiss. Bernadetta sighs softly against his mouth, nervously clutching his waist with her own hands. It’s quick, enough to put her at ease so he can move around behind her and take a seat on the bed. 

She turns around, but instead of joining him, she just stares nervously like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

“Bernadetta.” Comes his low voice, and she almost yelps and jumps. 

“I- um, I don’t-” 

“Come sit on my lap.” His command is firm but soft and he makes sure to leave the usual threatening edge out of his tone. It takes genuine effort on his part, so used to being intimidating. Despite the blush that covers her face, she makes her way over to him, and he places his hands on her waist to help her on him. 

For several seconds, she just stares at him, face to face. There’s something in her eyes- an observant glint, he’s seen it many times before. 

“Hubert, you’re um,” She swallows, seemingly steeling herself. “You’re really pretty?” It’s phrased as a question and he’s not sure if it’s because she can’t find the words or if she’s just unsure of herself. Most likely both. Nonetheless, the comment surprises him. 

Hubert has never considered himself to be pretty or even ugly; it’s never mattered. He’s never really cared about how he is perceived appearance-wise, only doing his best to keep himself smelling nice and cutting his hair every few years to make sure it doesn’t get too long.    
  
“Am I now?” He responds with a low chuckle, and panic sets into Bernadetta’s eyes.    
  
“I don’t mean that you’re not, um, manly- you are, you’re so manly- it’s just, your eyes are very nice to look at and your face is really angular, and sometimes I imagine myself painting you-” She vomits out words quickly, and Hubert has to stop himself from chuckling at the display. 

“Painting me?” He asks with a raised brow. 

Bernadetta’s expression in that moment is reminiscent of a stag’s moments before a hunter looses an arrow. 

“Well, just, um- I think you would look really nice on a canvas!” She says all in one breath, like she doesn’t trust herself to get the sentence out otherwise. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to modeling,” Hubert responds, tone measured and neutral in case that isn’t what she’s wanting. However, the way her face lights up when he says it tells him he hit the nail on the head, and there’s a sense of pride he feels at being able to read one of his partners well. 

“Yes! Yes, I would like that. A lot.” 

She leans in to kiss him happily, her arms coming up to lock behind his neck, holding tight. The kiss is experimental- they’ve never been one on one before, Dorothea or Ferdinand having usually been somewhere in the equation- she doesn’t seem quite sure how to go about being with him. 

The first thing he notices is how receptive she is, even with something so minute as kissing, a blush ghosting across her features. How easily flustered she gives Hubert somewhat of an idea. 

“Bernadetta,” He asks, pulling away to press light kisses to her cheek and place his lips directly by her ear. “What parts of me are pretty?” 

The girl exhales shakily, his hot breath ghosting her ear having more of an effect on her than he’d assumed it would. That was an interesting reaction he’d file away for use later. 

“Your hands are pretty- ah, Hubert-“ She’s cut off by him placing the hands she’d been talking about just under her shirt, directly above her waistband. 

“Are they?” He muses, even as his fingers splay lightly across her stomach, brushing just below her ribs. She gasps, desperately trying to maintain her composure well enough to speak, but even his gentle touch is enough to heat her face even more. 

“Ye- Yeah, they’re big, but,” Bernadetta bites down on her lip when his hands ghost across the underside of her breasts. “They fit you, and, even with the scars-“ She feels him tense slightly, his hands abruptly stopping their movement, and the panic starts to set in again. “No, I mean, the scars are pretty, too, they’re what make you Hubert-“ 

He laughs softly at her terrible recovery attempt. Hubert has never liked his scars, it’s why he does his best to keep his hands gloved at almost all times, and to hear that they are what make him him- it’s not something he’s ever considered, really. 

“I am my scars, hm?” 

“No, no, they’re not all that make you Hubert- Oh, Bernie, you’ve really done it now. He’s going to hate you now, forever and ever.” 

“No,” He says, firm. Hubert presses a light kiss to her neck. “I do not and could not hate you, Bernadetta. Much the opposite, I’d say.” 

“How do you manage to say nice things and still have it seem so  _ scary _ ,” She asks, but there’s a small smile on her face. 

Her panicked look doesn’t fade away entirely, but they both relax together at the sincerity of his words, only accentuated by his gentle touch. He moves his lips back up to match her own, capturing her mouth with ease. She eases into the kiss, licking into his mouth with a restrained curiosity. 

Bernadetta makes a soft breathy noise when he finally moves up to ghost his knuckles across her nipples. She breaks their kiss panting to bury her head in his neck. “Hubert,” She breathes, an unspoken plea in his name and, well, he’s never been one to refuse. His left hand gently teases her, the other trailing softly back down her torso. 

Hubert finds himself enthralled by the sounds Bernadetta makes when he touches and teases her, and with her mouth muffled in his neck, he feels he’s only getting half the fun. 

“Bernadetta, lay back.” He commands gently. To her credit, she obeys without question, leaning back and unclasping her hands behind his neck. He moves his hand from her breast, drawing a whine from her at the loss of contact. 

He grabs a handful of her shirt. “Off,” he tells her, and she sheds her shirt with relative ease. 

“Good girl.” His praise sends a shiver up her spine, a delicious movement for Hubert to witness. He put two of his fingers just below her waistband, an unspoken question answered when she lets out a small, breathy “please.” 

Hubert is more than happy to comply, putting one hand on her side to steady her, the other disappearing fully beneath her waistline. His middle finger finds her folds easily, stroking teasingly along the length. 

“Hubert- ngh-“ Bernadetta’s restrained moans are music to his ears, but he wants more than anything for her to let it all out.  _ Sing for me,  _ He thinks, his finger stroking up one more time, finding the small bead of flesh at the crest of her warmth. Hubert rubs small circles on her clit, and his wish is granted when she moans, full and loud, putting her hands on back on his knees to steady herself. 

He leans in to press a kiss to her sternum, trailing kisses over to her breast, gently sucking and flicking his tongue on her nipple. 

“Hubert, Hubert,  _ please _ -“ Bernadetta begs, and he’s more than happy to move his finger from her clit to her opening. She’s slick and ready for him, his finger sliding in with little resistance, drawing an ecstatic groan from her. He develops a smooth rhythm, thrusting in and out, cupping his hand so that the bottom of his palm rubs against her clit as he goes in and out. 

Hubert adds a finger inside her and then curves them both, rubbing against a spot inside her that causes her back to arch as a litany of noises fall out of her mouth, none of them sounding like real words. She’s barely trying to restrain herself at this point, and Hubert feels vaguely bad for Dorothea in the next room, but if he knows her, she’s most likely ‘enjoying herself’ to the sounds. 

“Hubert, Hubert-“ She mumbles something after his name that might have been please, but she’s too far gone for him to tell right now. Absentmindedly, he observes how nice she looks. A small sheen of sweat makes her glisten, her eyes are closed tight, slightly covered by her soft purple hair, and Hubert thinks that out of the two of them, he is hardly the pretty one. 

“Close- ah, haa, claah-“ Her inability to form sentences doesn’t mean that he can’t understand her, and Hubert gently removes his hand, pulling his fingers out of her with one quick motion. She makes an ungodly whining noise that has no business sounding as good as it does.

“Not yet,” He says, his voice low and somewhat primal. Hubert brings the hand he had in her to his mouth, making sure she’s keeping eye contact with him. He sticks his tongue out, slowly dragging the finger along it roughly, showcasing his teeth with a satisfied snarl. She looks somewhere between terrified and the most aroused she’s ever been, which is a happy medium for any of Hubert’s partners. 

“I want to feel you,” Hubert whispers, and Bernadetta bites down on her lip to stop it from quivering. He’s being selfish, and Hubert so rarely allows himself to be selfish, but-

“ _ Please, _ ” She manages to squeak out, leaning forward to nestle back into his neck, her haggard breath hot. It dispels all the doubts he had of his decision. 

Hubert, his hand now sufficiently clean, undoes his pants and pulls them and his undergarments down as much as he can, freeing himself. He’s been hard and his dick betrays his eagerness with it’s twitching. 

“Do you need help?” He asks, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She sighs out a yes, and he’s more than happy to help shed her own pants and undergarments. After, his hands grab firmly to her waist to help her sit up. 

“Position yourself,” Hubert commands, and Bernadetta’s hand reaches down to grasp at the base of his length. He inhales a harsh breath at the touch, her small warm hand feeling far too good. He chalks it up to the fact that he’s been restrained the whole time and is just pent up. 

She lowers slowly onto his cock, slick and smooth, and goddess, she feels so good clenched around him, he can’t help but let out a groan. Making noise in bed is unusual for Hubert, but not unheard of. The adoring look Bernadetta gives him at his admission of ecstasy makes breaking his normal behavior more than worth it. 

Bernadetta, in contrast, is far noisier than him in bed. His first thrust breaks her out of her adoration with an “oh, oh  _ goddess _ .” He knows she’s vocal in bed, but it being just the two of them only accentuates how loud she truly is. He finds a steady rhythm, thrusting up into her and working her to completion with a the pad of his finger on her clit.

She’s got her arms clutching onto him tight, her head back in his shoulder. She tries to muffle her moans by sinking her teeth into his skin, causing him to pick up his speed, his skin colliding with hers to make a sound that has no business sounding as satisfying as it does. 

Hubert knows when she cums by the way her nails dig into his biceps and her walls clenched around his cock. She stills for several moments, letting out a noise he can only describe as heavenly. It’s vaguely his name, he thinks, which is nice in it’s own right.

Hubert stops moving, ready to pull out when she utters a small “Wh- Why did you stop? You didn’t, ah- finish.”

It comes as a shock to him. He had been selfish enough by wanting to feel her, but she’s asking for him to finish when it’s not about him. She’s trembling, coming down off the high of her orgasm, and the last thing he wants is to overstimulate her. 

“I’m almost there,” He offers, cautious and simple. “But...are you sure, Bernadetta?” 

She shivers at her name coming from his lips. “I-I want it, but please be gentle.” 

“As you wish.” His lips press lightly against her soft skin. He moves in her carefully, finding the slower pace mildly better. One final thrust brings him over the edge and he presses her body to his own as he cums, breath ragged and clipped. 

“Bernadetta,” Hubert breathes, still flush against her. His hand comes up to hold the back of her head gently, happy to have her resting against him. 

“I love you.” She says in the smallest of voices, and the raw admission of affection brings a small heat to his face, hidden well by the heat caused by their situation. They remain embraced, even as he pulls out of her, uncaring of the mess. They’ll move and deal with it.

Eventually. 

**Author's Note:**

> twit is @wrcassnessa


End file.
